Once grown
We are thrown
Out of that magic place
Where the fairy’s face
Is by children seen.
The fairy queen
We may perceive
From afar,
Yet we must remember who we are
As it does grieve
Her when an adult crosses the border,
And disturbs the sacred order
—
Children should be allowed to be children, and not forced to grow up before their time.
There was a young lady called Lott
Who, feeling rather hot,
Decided to sunbathe in the nude.
Some thought her extremely rude,
But the photographer did not
It catches up with you, in the end,
Although its easy to pretend
That the late nights
And fights
With an unknown friend
Under the sheet
Will not defeat
Roistering youth.
The truth
Oft creeps
Up on a man as he sleeps.
Or when, on seeing nature’s beauty he weeps
Over something irredeemably lost,
And counts the cost for a while,
Then with a weary smile
Returns to the merry-go-round
Which will spin him round, and round and round
I remember when the rain
Did maintain
A more or less steady beat.
Now my feet
Can not a puddle
Find, for nature is in a muddle.
And man’s distain
Will not conjure the rain.
There was a young poet called Keith
Who’s works where extremely brief.
Each poem consisted of only one word ,
(which was rather absurd),
And he lived in a place called Dalkeith.
Stillettos
Impure
Alure.
Passion’s
Empty
Core
A reading of a classic Sherlock Holmes story
‘The Adventure of the Speckled Band’ is one of the most popular Sherlock Holmes story written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Doyle himself recognised that many readers would include ‘The Speckled Band’ among their list of favourite Holmes outings. It’s easy to read Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories and enjoy them, with no additional analysis deemed necessary. But closer inspection reveals its links to previous detective fiction and the reasons for its status as one of the finest of Doyle’s short stories.
‘The Speckled Band’, in summary, focuses on the case of Helen Stoner, a woman of thirty who lives with her bullying and domineering stepfather, Sir Grimesby Roylott, at Stoke Moran. She is nervous and fearful when she comes to Baker Street to consult Sherlock Holmes, and tells him her back-story. In India, Roylott had married Ms Stoner’s mother…
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Should I to the bookies go, and put cash
On this prospect rash?
I doubt the horse can win the race (though the crowd
In his support are loud
And grope
For hope
In empty pools
Where fools
Drown).
Do I want him to win?
I grin
And keep my own counsel, for the wise
Do not prate
Or rise
To the bait.
They cultivate
A zen-like state
And patiently wait …
Lucy Brazier is the author of PorterGirl: First Lady Of The Keys, a zany trip through mayhem and chaos as Old College suffers it’s first ever female Deputy Head Porter.
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Waking early,
And being unable to return to the land of slumber,
Idly I wonder
About our need for sleep,
For we can not pretend
That he will not take us all in the end.
K Morris - Poet 